


Strange, how certain the journey

by ilarual (Ilarual)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), But also, Character Study, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley finally tells Aziraphale his whole life story, Established Relationship, Graphic depictions of violence warning is maybe not really warranted, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Jesus is going to hurt your heart in this fic btw, Mutual Pining, Obligatory "the author is an estadounidense who fails at British English" tag, One part character study one part stupid pining, Other, Pining, because flashbacks, but I would rather be safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 05:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19350418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilarual/pseuds/ilarual
Summary: An innocent question from Anathema prompts Crowley to tell Aziraphale a story more than six thousand years in the making: the story of his own life.





	Strange, how certain the journey

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Good Omens fandom! Boy, we sure do love the ineffable idiots, don't we? I couldn't resist the urge to write for this fandom despite having way too many projects on my plate as-is, and the Crowley-as-Raphael concept really caught my imagination. It's not my primary headcanon for him, per se, but I think there's a lot of potential in the idea that I haven't really seen tapped into in any fic yet, so I thought I'd explore that. Ironic, isn't it? Aziraphale is my fave, and yet somehow I end up writing something heavily Crowley-centric... ah well.
> 
> I'm experimenting a bit with style on this one, trying out a style that's more reminiscent of Neil and Terry's tone and almost definitely failing miserably but... hey, footnotes! I'm probably going to drop that more modern, wry style of writing for the flashbacks and just keep the contemporary flavor to the framing device segments that are set in the modern era, because I don't think I can keep it up for the entire fic, but we'll see how it goes, I guess.
> 
> Title is from [Eric's Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axgoppZ_7ic) by Vienna Teng, which is such an Ineffable Husbands song I might actually die.

Jasmine Cottage, in the village of Tadfield, Oxfordshire, had played host to a number of varied and interesting tenants over the years. The little house had changed hands numerous times before ultimately being converted to a rental property by the current owner, and all manner of people had come and gone about their lives within its walls.

It is probable, however, that never since its construction had it played host to such a remarkable group as currently occupied the small dining room. The cottage's current lessor, Miss Anathema Device, who happened to be a practicing witch, was sitting opposite a portly angel. The principality Aziraphale was comfortably ensconced in a wingback armchair with a mug of tea in his hands, cheerfully explaining the finer points of how to misplace a flaming sword, while a renegade demon lounged against the arm of the chair the angel occupied. He appeared to be paying little attention to what Aziraphale was saying, far more inclined to observe the antics of the room's other occupants. Four human children— one of whom was a Former Antichrist— sat clustered around a middle-aged medium of dubious provenance, listening as she told them tales that were, perhaps, not _entirely_ appropriate for an audience of pre-teens.[1] The demon, who went by the pseudonym Crowley, seemed highly amused by these goings-on.

Ordinarily, these little gatherings also included a certain Mr. Shadwell, attaché to and live-in boyfriend of the medium, whose usual role in these sorts of circumstances was to blurt out commentary unrelated to the current subject and to cast distrusting, sidelong glances in the direction of the angel. Mr. Shadwell being absent due to an ill-timed headcold, his role was admirably filled by the witch's boyfriend. It must be said, however, that Newton Pulsifer seemed a great deal more wary of the demon than the angel.[2]

So a witch, two celestial beings of various provenance, a phony clairvoyant, a failed computer engineer, and a Former Antichrist and his friends. It was certainly not the sort of gathering Jasmine Cottage was at all used to accommodating. In fact, it was rather more the sort of guest list one would expect to hear concluded by the phrase "all walked into a bar" as the setup for a particularly rambling joke, rather than the polite company invited round for tea on a drizzly March afternoon.

Well, perhaps _polite_ company was stretching the truth a bit far, but with Shadwell not in attendance, the general civility of the group was enormously improved. Regardless of the quality of the party, however, those gathered within the walls of the little Tadfield cottage would not have traded each other's company for anyone in the world.[3]

The group had reconnected in the wake of the Armageddon-that-wasn't largely through the meddlesome efforts of Adam, ex-Antichrist extraordinaire. Having decided that he was quite fond, not just of Anathema and the Them, but of the other five men, ladies, and gender-ambiguous immortal beings who had been present for his non-ascension, he had made it his business to ensure that they didn't lose touch.

It had not been difficult for him to arrange. A bit of creative googling (and quite probably a smattering of occult interference) had resulted in him marching directly into a certain bookshop in Soho, completely without adult supervision or an explanation for how he had gotten himself to London in the first place, and insisting that the Angel of the Eastern Gate, come 'round for supper sometime. Aziraphale, completely nonplussed, had agreed out of sheer befuddlement, and the rest was more or less history.[4]

Supper with the Antichrist and his very befuddled parents had turned into regular visits to Tadfield, which led to a number of visits to Anathema, which led to a rather heated row between Anathema and Aziraphale on the subject of the burning of the rest of Agnes Nutter's prophecies in which both Crowley and Newt had been required to intervene to avoid the possibility of actual violence breaking out and, well… that was that.

No one was quite sure at what point Madame Tracey and her consort had joined their little band of friends. They all assumed that at some point Adam must have gotten in contact with them as well. Regardless, everyone involved agreed that they were a lovely addition.

Well, everyone agreed that _Mme. Tracey_ was a lovely addition. Aziraphale and Crowley would both have preferred to forget that Sergeant Shadwell existed, as the revelation that he had successfully been conning both of them for decades had rather embarrassed the duo.

Just as Pepper was asking a pointed question about the ethics of fraudulent psychic readings that had Crowley sniggering into his teacup, Anathema and Aziraphale's conversation began wandering in the direction of human theology.

"So you're the principality Agnes was talking about in #3008," Anathema mused.

"Yes, I suppose I must be."

"What… what exactly does that mean? My family has been more into paganism for quite a few generations." She seemed to think better of this statement, and hurried to add, "Uh, no offense."

Aziraphale smiled. "It's all just different names for the same thing, my dear, none taken."[5]

Anathema leaned forward, cupping her mug of tea between her hands, intent on hearing what he had to say. "So a principality is, like, a sub-type of angel, then?"

"Just so. Or perhaps you could think of it as a sort of job description. There are nine choirs or orders of angels, grouped into three separate spheres of influence," he explained. "The Catholics got that much right, at least, though I've no idea who could've leaked the information.[6] The details are a little off, but the fundamentals, at least, are—"

"On the money, right," Anathema quickly interrupted. Keeping Aziraphale on track when he was in a mood to ramble was a skill she was rapidly mastering.

Aziraphale smiled brightly, in a way that suggested he knew he was being handled but that he didn't mind overmuch.[7] "Yes, well. The First Sphere— that would be the seraphim, the cherubim, and the thrones— are concerned primarily with Heavenly matters. Praising God, managing the business of the ethereal, all that sort of thing. The Second Sphere do sort of the heavy lifting of keeping the world in order. Managing gravity, time… keeping all the cogs and gears of the universe turning as they should. It's thankless work, I'm afraid, and I'm very glad not to have been assigned to it!"

To everyone's surprise, it was Newt who interjected next. "I suppose that means the Third Sphere handles Earthly matters, then?"[8]

"Yes indeed. The Third Sphere is comprised of guardian angels, archangels, and principalities such as myself," Aziraphale said.

Anathema cocked her head to the side curiously. "Wait, I thought archangels were, like… the bosses or something? Aren't they supposed to be in charge?"

Aziraphale smiled. "A common misconception. Or rather, not a misconception but a translation problem. Somehow English has ended up with one word that has two different Heavenly meanings. There are the archangels, who are the second choir of the Third Sphere of angels, and there are the Seven Archangels, who rule over Heaven and are God's messengers on Earth."

"Five Archangels," Crowley piped up suddenly.

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder to look up at Crowley where he was slouched against the arm of his chair.

"There are _five_ Archangels, angel. Two of the original seven are Fallen. You can't say there's still seven when two of them are demons now."

Aziraphale contemplated that for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you're quite right about that. Still, it somehow seems _disrespectful_ not to at least mention Lucifer and Raph—"

"Oh come off it," Crowley groaned. "This is all ancient history, anyway. _Literally_ happened before the beginning of Time."

So saying, he pushed himself off the arm of Aziraphale's chair and wandered over to where Mme. Tracy was holding court.

Aziraphale watched him go with a baffled expression. _Sometimes_ , he thought, _Crowley gets himself worked up over the strangest of things_.

Turning back to Anathema and Newt, who had observed the whole exchange with curious expressions, he said, "As I was saying, the Seven Archangels were Michael, the Seraph, Lucifer, the Cherub, Raphael, the Throne, Gabriel, the Dominion, Uriel, the Virtue, Ramiel, the Power, and Raguel, the Principality. One from each of the seven highest choirs, you see. The irony, of course, is that there is no Archangel who is also an archangel."

Newt sputtered out a laugh at this, which caused Anathema to give him a highly dubious look before turning back to Aziraphale. "And obviously Lucifer is Satan now," she observed. "So that makes him Adam's—"

"Unholy Father, yes." Aziraphale glanced over at the boy in question, who was presently interrogating Crowley about the serpent brand on his face. "It's funny, you know. In a way, I suppose Adam rather does resemble his father."

"Can't say I see the resemblance," Newt observed dryly, no doubt thinking of the monstrous Devil who had clawed his way up through the blacktop of the Tadfield air base on the day of the would-be apocalypse.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't," Aziraphale agreed. "It's not a physical resemblance, exactly, or at least not one human eyes can see. It's a… a radiance, you might say. A resemblance on a higher plane."

"Like an aura?" Anathema guessed.

"Something like that. Lucifer was once the brightest and most beautiful of all angels," Aziraphale mused. "The Morningstar, he was called. It's what made his rebellion, his Fall, so tragic. He should have been the best of us all, and yet…" He trailed off, shaking his head sadly.

"So are all demons fallen angels, then?" Anathema asked.

"Yes and no," Aziraphale replied. "Hell is full of all manner of vile creatures Satan created from corrupted human souls, but yes, the _true_ demons were all angels once."

The witch's expression was alight with eager curiosity. In a way, she reminded Aziraphale of Eve, so curious and hungry for knowledge. "So Mr. Crowley was an angel once? What sort of angel was he? Did you two know each other before, then? Is that why you're so close now?"

"No, we didn't know each other at all." A perturbed look came across Aziraphale's face. "Actually, now that you mention it, I've no idea what he was like before he Fell. The first time we met was in Eden, you see."

There was something in Aziraphale's expression then, a quiet thoughtfulness, that led both Newt and Anathema to reach the conclusion, almost simultaneously, that perhaps it was best to close this avenue of conversation for the time being.

"So all that stuff— the Garden of Eden, and Exodus, and all that lot— that's real, then?" Newt asked.

Aziraphale nodded, and launched into an explanation of how various cultures had managed to pick up on tidbits of the actual truth of Creation and how all the disjointed pieces fit together.[9]

* * *

Crowley was quiet on the drive back to London.

This was, by itself, somewhat unusual. Crowley could be quiet and introspective at times, but he was also the sort of person who had a great many thoughts, and an eagerness to share them with the one being in any realm who would understand the way his mind worked. He didn't waste words with meaningless chatter, but he also wasn't prone to extended silences unless something was bothering him.

Aziraphale had known him long enough and deeply enough to sense the way Crowley's mind was moving. He was wrestling with something, turning it over and over in his head to puzzle it out, and so he let him be. If it was important, Crowley would bring it up in his own time; his beloved had never, not once in the entire history of their long acquaintance, failed to be anything but honest with him.

It was as Crowley was bringing the Bentley to a stop outside the bookshop and the crooning of Freddie Mercury[10] came to a stop when the engine cut out that he finally broke his contemplative silence. Before Aziraphale could open the door

"I was thinking about what Anathema asked earlier," he said.

"Miss Device asked a great many things," Aziraphale pointed out. "She's got a natural curiosity to rival even yours, my dear."

Crowley gave him a look that, even through his sunglasses, Aziraphale could tell was highly unamused. "You know what I mean," he said tartly. "I mean the bit about… me, and if we'd known each other before I Fell."

Aziraphale waited for him to elaborate.

"It's just— well, it occurred to me that I've really never told you anything about… about _before_."

Aziraphale nodded. "I always wondered, but I felt it would be rude to ask, and you always seemed so prickly any time I would mention the fact that you _were_ an angel once upon a time."

Crowley shrugged. "Been trying to put it in perspective since before Time was invented,"[11] he pointed out. "I'm still not all the way there, but… well, it occurred to me that maybe you'd want to know."

Aziraphale couldn't have stopped the smile had he wanted to. "Only if you want to share it, my dear."

The breathy chuckle Crowley let out at this had very little humor to it, but the warmth in his eyes as he looked at Aziraphale was genuine. "' _Want_ ' is a pretty strong word," he said, "but I think now that I think about it, I probably need to tell you? Or ought to tell you?" He waved a hand in the sort of flippant gesture that meant something along the lines of: _I don't really know what the hell I'm saying but I hope you understand me anyway_.

Aziraphale reached out and caught his hand with one of his own. He placed a soft kiss to Crowley's knuckles.

"If you're certain," he said, "then I would be delighted to hear anything you have to tell me."

Crowley's expression looked torn between many emotions all at once. Aziraphale had always known that his Fall was a bit of a sore subject— in fact, he couldn't imagine a scenario in which it would be otherwise— but the way Crowley's mouth was pulled into that worried little frown he wore when he was fretting about something made him suddenly, ravenously curious. He found himself wondering what in Heaven or Hell he could possibly have to say that would make Crowley so tense about the matter.

Seeming to come to a resolution, Crowley pulled his hand out of Aziraphale's grasp and opened the car door, stepping out into the rain-soaked street. "Alright," he said firmly, "if we're doing this, then I'm going to need something stronger than tea."

Aziraphale nodded, getting out of the Bentley in turn. "I think that can be arranged."

* * *

11This was not because her stories were in any way too adult for young ears, but more because, when sharing the wisdom of experience with a Former Antichrist and his band of rapscallions, it is perhaps best not to give them any ideas about swindling widows out of a portion of their pension through the use of cold reading.[return to text]

22 Those who know better will observe that this was very short-sighted of him.[return to text]

33 It's funny what kinds of bonds surviving the almost-apocalypse together can forge.[return to text]

44 One did not, after all, refuse an invitation from a Former Antichrist, even if he did add "oh, and bring that demon bloke in the funny sunglasses along" before popping back out the door, as if that were a perfectly ordinary thing to say.[return to text]

55 This was, perhaps, a bit of reductive thinking on Aziraphale's part, but the last time he'd gotten into an extended conversation about whether religious dogma was actually important in worshipping the Almighty, it had resulted in a six-day theological debate and poor Martin Luther nailing up his little essay, and as far as Aziraphale was concerned it really wasn't worth the trouble such things tended to cause.[return to text]

66 Crowley, who was relatively certain that Aziraphale himself had been the source of this particular information leak during a drunken night out in Italy about nine centuries earlier, nearly choked on his tea to avoid laughing out loud.[return to text]

77 Aziraphale was rather charmed with Anathema. It was nice to have someone whose intellectual pursuits so nicely complemented his own.[return to text]

88 After having made the personal acquaintance of an actual angel and an actual demon, he had thought it prudent to read the angelology and demonology pages on Wikipedia. When this venture had resulted in him somehow managing to delete said pages from the internet (along with the listing for the Rod of Asclepius, for some reason), he had wisely decided that perhaps an old-fashioned encyclopedia entry on the subject might be a safer bet. His information on the subject was, therefore, non-comprehensive but sufficient to follow the present discussion.[return to text]

99 It was rare for Aziraphale and Crowley to have human friends who actually knew who and what they were, and this was the first time they'd had the _same_ human friends, which made Aziraphale quite eager to discuss their history, and if that included recounting the story of his and Crowley's first meeting as often as any of their new companions was willing to listen to him, then so be it.[return to text]

1010The tape had originally been a fifty year old recording of _Die Zauberflöte_ , and somehow it managed to make "We Are The Champions" sound like it.[return to text]

1111 For a human consciousness, which is used to navigating linear time, it may be difficult to comprehend how the universe moved before the concept of Time was created, but for the sake of the reader's sanity, let us simply imagine that before Time was created, the lives of eternal beings moved through and around each other in much the same way a plate of spaghetti does: twisting and doubling back on itself and twining around other strands in a complicated hodgepodge of intersections that looks dreadfully difficult to untangle, but which makes perfect sense if you only pull a single strand out and examine it by itself.

It's far from a perfect metaphor, but may help prevent one from giving oneself brain damage trying to comprehend a pre-Time, pre-Entropy universe.[return to text]

 


End file.
